Tell me, O muse, of that ingenious hero who travelled far and wide ...

" ... we know how the story will end, don't we Mezzy."

It was quiet, there in the shadows.

So late it was that the room hearth was banked, the only illumination the hint of orange coals, the frail light ending at the edge of the fire's warmth. The dull glow cast the rest of the room in the darkest shade of shifting grays. The two conversed so quietly, each word precious and guarded. True, it was the little warlock who did most of the talking, all wrapped up in her blankets. She sat, however, propped up against the headboard, arms lain upon her lap, atop a package of wood and silk so carefully set there.

The tall voidwaker melted into the shifting shadows, the flash of his talons, the glitter of his heavy bracers like glimpses of starlight. Beside her, he stood, for now silent, a cobalt swirling of magic and dreams.

"I know.

"Why ... why go on, when the end is known, that we shall one day reach it, like a dreamer waking, to find the truth lain out, the trap sprung ... the chain of dominoes having finally reached their predestined end?"

Soft eyes looked up, trying to find the words, to explain such a subtle concept to a demon.

To her best friend.

"We know we are not stronger than the Legion, and that one day we will fall beneath them.

"There are some who would romaticize that. Dying for the Light or something like that ... the songs minstrels sing of fallen heros ... of Malfurion and Tyrande ..."

Her glance fell low, to where her hands rested.

" .. of Medivh."

Silent for a long moment, a forever set of heartbeats, it took a long while for her to be able to raise her head.

"Come the end Mezzy ... I am not sure that is important. It is not that finality that matters, not that last call.

"It's .. it's the path we take to get there.

"Who we are, what we ... how we meet that final nightfall, what will make all the difference in all the worlds, form our own truth between shadow and fire, is the path we take to get there.

"The journey is where our choices are made; our history is sculpted in the people we meet, in the lives we effect, in how we meet the challenges and temptations the Legion places before us. It is not the end that is the sum of our lives here upon Azeroth ... but each day, traveled one at a time, like a sailor making his way home, that is the whole of our lives.

"A sword, Mezzy ... a sword is but a piece of lifeles metal. A staff but a length of wood, bits of cloth."

Her gaze fell again, fingers slowly tracing the outline of the gift.

"Until it is taken up ... to travel upon a road from somewhen to somewhere and it is what happens along that path, the person whom it chooses to accompany - by chance or fate or machination - that is where it becomes more than just a piece of smithcraft and metalurgy."

Shoulders shrugged, a gentle contemplative motion.

"In some ways, Mezzy, folks are very much like that.

"We may be forged with potential, pawns upon a great gaming board. But it is what we do each day that tempers us, the people we meet, the people we care for ... that forms the play of this dangerous game.

"You and me, Mezzy?"

"I think our journey ....

"I think it might be just begining.

"I wonder where it will take us?"

Carefully wrapping the shattered haft of wood in deep blue silk, each motion of her small hands were soft and precise. As if it is more than just broken wood she covered, as if she could not help but understand the weight of time and lives that lay heavy upon the quiet night.

The young warlock resettled the package carefully in her lap, folding her hands upon it. Her eyes slowly closed, beneath her voidwalker's protective watch. To sleep, and maybe, also to dream.

The first step of her own odyssey.

A Splinter of Atiesh.

... dreams surely are difficult, confusing, and not everything in them is brought to pass for mankind. For fleeting dreams have two gates: one is fashioned of horn and one of ivory. Those which pass through the one of sawn ivory are deceptive, bringing tidings which come to nought, but those which issue from the one of polished horn bring true results when a mortal sees them ...

Homer

There are many things that can be said, about the surprise, the absolute shock and how completely unexpected this honor, this gift was.

But in the end it comes down to something very simple, and the most true.

To my Guildmates in Veritas, upon the Earthen Ring ...

Thank you.